


The Long Road Away From Number 10

by Cân Cennau (gwenynnefydd)



Category: British Comedy RPF, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c., The Last Leg RPF
Genre: #MikeMeUp, #PinkVoteForMike, Cantair Set, Crack, Gen, Humor, Political Campaigns, Satire, Teamwork, look this is cracky af friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: An unexpected surge of write-in votes in the Tory leadership contest forces a run-off election race between Boris Johnson and Mike the Cameraman. Now faced with the unenviable prospect of becoming PM, Mike the Cameraman and the Last Leg crew have a week to prove to the Conservative public that Boris Johnson is, in fact, the better choice.





	The Long Road Away From Number 10

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been able to watch The Last Leg live since I don't actually own a TV nor have a TV License, so I'm about three days late to the Mike the Cameraman party, but here I am! My gay ass would vote for Mike as Tory leader if it wasn't very much a left-leaning ass.

“The total number of votes given to each candidate, in alphabetical order, were as follows: Boris Johnson, 127, Jeremy Hunt, 90.” The voting officer paused before continuing. “...Mike the Cameraman, 97.”

In Committee Room Fourteen, there was uproar. Jeremy Hunt’s political team began exchanging angry, accusatory whispers between them, while Boris Johnson’s team just looked flabbergasted. There was a clatter of pens and smartphones, as everyone tried to figure out what _exactly_ just happened.

And somewhere in the London suburbs, there was the resounding tinkle of ceramic as Mike the Cameraman dropped his mug of herbal tea on the floor.

* * *

 “Like, I cannot say how _sorry_ we are.“

In the studios, Adam, Josh and Mike all huddled together, as the crew bustled around them, preparing for the night’s show.

“We didn’t think Tory voters watched us.” Adam continued. Josh nodded vigorously beside him.

“We’ve got your back though,” Josh said. “We’ll do your speeches, your campaign videos… “

“But I don’t want to be Prime Minister.” Mike replied, sounding tired.

“Well, that's fine!” Josh suddenly grinned. “We at _The Last Leg_ are great at ruining prime ministerial chances.”

“We’ll make sure you never become Prime Minister,” Adam added. “Mark my words.”

* * *

 They only had a week to campaign on Mike not being PM, and so early Saturday morning, they headed to a nearby park for some promo shots.

“Are we sure we don’t want Mike as PM?” Josh asked, after an hour.

“We can’t force him.” Adam sighed. “Even if Boris is our other choice.”

“Shame.” Josh paused. “Has anyone told Mike he’s supposed to be in front of the camera, not behind it?”

Across the park, Mike was making some shapes in the air, indicating ideas for framing. Adam jogged off to ensure some actual filming of Mike was done.

* * *

 The downside of filming outside was that the general public could recognize them. Adam and Josh were used to it, but Mike too had gained some notoriety from the news.

“He reminds me of Rory Stewart like this,” Adam commented, as Mike tried to fend off the compliments of an over-friendly fan. “Maybe we can capitalise on that?”

“Awkward, endearing, nice, not socially adept…” Josh mused. “We can work with that.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t sit on the spiked fence.” Josh’s face was schooled into a suspiciously bland expression. Adam frowned.

“...He’s sitting on the fence, isn’t he?”

* * *

 Two days later, Alex returned to the fold from his brief dip in the Channel.

“How did it go?” Mike asked, as Alex sauntered into the office that Monday afternoon.

“Well, the jellyfish boat did fuck all, I can tell you that.” Alex groused. “And when I got out, no one cared! They were all talking about _you_.”

Mike winced. “I’m _so_ sorry. If it helps, I think it’s amazing that you swam the Channel.”

“Thanks mate.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Josh told me that you’re trying to wriggle out of being PM. I think I can help...”

* * *

 “A baby?” Mike asked dubiously, a while later. “You’re giving me a baby?”

“All bad leaders photograph terribly with children.” Alex said cheerily. “Trump, Vladimir Putin probably... Here - take her, and look towards the camera…”

There was a little shuffling as the baby was transferred to Mike’s arms, but soon the baby was settled. Josh pointed the camera in his direction, Adam aimed his phone, but it was no use - Mike had immediately began smiling and cooing, ticking the tiny thing.

“Oh _no_ ,” Adam said, with a growing sense of horror. “He’s good with children.”

“We’re _doomed_.” Josh agreed despairingly.

* * *

 Despite all their best efforts, Mike was still proving to be unpredictably popular. #PinkVoteForMike and #MikeMeUp had been trending on Twitter over the course of the week, while Boris had been attempting to lob half-baked insults from the settee of _Good Morning Britain,_ which Mike and crew watched in Mike’s living room.

“Look,” Boris blustered on-screen. “He has as much chance of becoming Prime Minister as of being decapitated by a frisbee or of finding Elvis. The only people who support him are lonely, middleaged womenfolk.”

“Don’t forget the gay men, Boris.” Mike muttered, and Adam snorted. “They like me too.”

* * *

 While the foursome frantically created and published campaign videos and photographs to stop Mike from becoming PM, Boris was being distinctly unhelpful by… well, by being _Boris_.

“Can anything harm him?” Mike asked, watching Boris bumble his way through excuses for racism on the TV. “Scandal, bigotry, well aimed radiation?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Josh muttered. “He might turn into the Hulk.”

“To be fair,” Alex interjected. “No PM candidate has ever lost by being green.”

“No PM candidate has ever _turned_ green.”

“Exactly! Think of it like an experiment, Josh.”

Josh responded by throwing a pillow at him.

* * *

“Look, we’re running out of options here.” Josh snapped, as they huddled in Nandos on the last campaign day. “Mike, are you a vegetarian? Can we do a bacon sandwich moment?”

“Maybe a scandal?” Alex mused. “We can get a photo of you kicking me over. ‘Tory candidate assaults disabled man-’”

“I am _not_ kicking you over!” Mike protested. They bickered over pita and peri-peri, suggesting fantastical ideas and then shooting them back down. Finally, Adam coughed, and they all fell silent.

“At this point,” Adam said quietly. “I think we’ve just got to pray Boris’ racism actually _attracts_ voters.”

* * *

 “I can’t believe,” Mike said, after a moment. “That forty-seven people voted for me after all _that.”_

The television in the studio’s back room was showing footage of Boris Johnson in his ridiculous helicopter heading towards Number 10, but barely anyone was watching anymore. Adam and Mike were lounging on the settee, champagne in hand, whilst the rest of the cast and crew chatted amongst each other.

“Well, take it as a compliment.” Adam replied. “Or as hope that not everyone in the Conservative party liked the flaming racist.”

“I like that hope.” Mike raised his glass. “Cheers?”

“Cheers!”


End file.
